Dangerously Close
by Blueberry Absinth
Summary: To Talon, it was simply a necessity. He didn't kiss, didn't sweet talk, didn't stay after the act, didn't wonder if he was good at what he did or not. Up until now... Quinn/Talon, PWP


**Dedicated to Chromyx who got me to (at least) consider this pairing and thanks to whom I got this plotbunny ^_^ Thaaaaankiessss very much :3**

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Dangerously Close

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_He remembers no family, warmth, or kindness. Instead, the clink of stolen gold and the security of a wall at his back are all the kinship he has ever craved…_

_Talon's Background_

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To Talon, sex was simply a necessity.

From the first time in the slums of Noxus, with a woman who was far older than him, up until now with this Demacian scout, he didn't derive any pleasure from it. Whenever the need arose, he would seek out the first willing female and do it. He didn't kiss, didn't sweet talk, didn't stay after the act, didn't wonder if he was good at what he did or not.

So he didn't know how they got in this predicament and frankly, nor did he care.

Lately his urges (as he called them) weren't quite satisfied, no matter what he did and he wasn't surprised to find himself tumbling with the Demacian scout (Quinn was her name probably), half-fighting, half-stripping her, half-evading her sloppy kisses. Although giving into his instincts, he wasn't going to allow any kisses and all that crap.

The woman's eyes were glazed, rosy cheeks and clumsy fingers (though he knew they weren't as per usual), as she tried to undo the clasps on his armour. He had trapped her underneath him, pressing her so hard with his legs that she should be screaming from pain by all logic. But she seemed not to notice it at all, as she panted and stumbled with his clothing.

With a loud clink his cloak was gone, thrown somewhere on the left. Although he knew it wasn't a good idea, he just didn't want to pay attention to his surroundings. The main thought in his mind was to get rid of her annoying clothes. Although her mantle and breastplate were gone, lost in the fog of war around them, she was by no means undressed. He tsk-ed in annoyance. Despite having gone through the same with many others, they hadn't been as dressed as this one. Damn Demacia.

Talon's deft fingers moved hers away and quickly undid his shoulder pads, letting them fall with a clink somewhere. Then followed his bracers and his boots. The resulting cacophony was earsplitting, but he concentrated on her sharp intakes of breath as she wondered what to do with her hands, so she just clawed her way to his hood and ripped it apart. He growled and in a childish attempt of revenge, he tore open her undershirt and bent over to lick her neck. The licks soon turned to bites and had her thrashing around and arcing into him .

He smirked slightly, his breath ghosting over the skin. Her skin tasted a bit like feathers and had the slightest scent of pine needles which refreshed and left him wanting for more. Every time her pulse quickened by just a fraction and every time she moaned in that quiet way, he got more and more excited, despite the fact that it was the excitement of going in for a kill, rather than the excitement of another body being so close to his.

He reveled in the fact that she was so soft under his control, passive and yielding under his body, letting him ravage her in all the ways that he wanted (that would make killing her on the next day, far easier). He never allowed people to dominate him – not that anyone tried.

His hands were roaming all they wanted over her athletic body. She was all lean muscle and sinew, nothing more than what was needed, yet she still managed to keep her womanly curves that her armor hid and that frankly would drive any lesser man crazy: the slight slump between her breasts and her tummy, at which he paid utmost attention, her waist gracefully turning into her hips, hipbones protruding slightly.

All those muscles and curves were acting in a passionate way that he'd rarely seen. Her legs were squirming, tickling him a bit, and her hands were keeping him as close as humanly possible, chapped nails scratching his back, surely leaving marks he would later feel.

He paused a bit at her nipples, sucking and pinching and even biting, reveling in the quiet moans that came from her. For him, every whimper was a drop of blood and her whole body was a terrain where he could wage battles. And he did: his tongue deftly licked her nipples for the last time, then went down over all of her breasts, right to their underside, where he teased her a bit.

"S-stop that! It tickles," she managed to say in between her panting. He shook his head almost dejectedly: it seemed she still had enough of a mind to talk. Bad; he might be becoming rusty.

So as to prove himself that he really was as good as he used to be, his tongue continued its journey southwards, outlining her barely visible abs, then going for the hipbones and stopping a few inches above the real treasure. Who knows why he hesitated. For a second, a million thoughts ran through his mind: whether it'd be okay for his to do so, how he'd do it, hell, whether she'd like it or not. After a quick glance to her face, all doubts disappeared from his head: he pried open her legs, pinned them down and kept them in place with his hands, tilted his head and gave a long, lazy lick to her clit.

Her whimpers became even louder.

He didn't understand it. He didn't understand her. He would never allow anyone else to do this to him, no matter how good it'd feel.

Not so gently, he prodded her with his tongue to see how wet she was. After seeing that she wasn't enough, he continued so as to get over more quickly with this act. Although he didn't really like sex, he didn't like his partners being in pain.

Her flesh clenched and contracted under his ministrations, as her sounds became louder and a bit more articulated. Her hands were trembling with desire, as they travelled to his head and held onto his hair tightly. A random stray thought made him notice how sweaty she was, leading him to realize that a Serpentine river pouring out of his body too.

They had to finish quickly, so he sped up, eliciting even more whimpers from her. It was interesting how for each of his actions, there was an immediate reaction in her body.

After reaching the satisfactory amount, he lifted his head and positioned himself on top of her. Anyway, it'd be over soon and his urges would be satiated for a little amount of time. He didn't think of changing the position he always used.

However, she did.

A fraction of the second when the tip would just go in, he noticed a flash of determination in her eyes and before long she was fighting him, pushing him to the bed, changing the position, so that he would be the submissive one. He was shocked really, so she easily pinned him down with her legs. His eyes widened as his brain finally assimilated what had happened.

He had been tricked! He had made the mistake of not paying attention to her emotions and had let her get so close to him and make use of his weaknesses (if any existed). It was idiocy not befitting the name of DuCouteau and the Blade's Shadow. He could only remember one failure like that and it was when General DuCouteau beat him back when he was simply Talon (but he'd given him his respect nonetheless).

He tried to overpower her again, but with the shock still rattling through his muscles, she easily overpowered him and held him in place with her legs.

It was from below that he finally managed to get a glimpse of how long and slender they really were.

She slowly bent down, shortening the distance between their faces. Her breasts came in touch with his chest first, then her stomach, until she was completely glued to him. It was a whole new sensation to him. He had never been so close to anyone, without having to kill them. Her face was uncomfortably close to his (though he did notice the small myriad of very light freckles on her nose). The scent of forest invaded his senses and this time won against his reasoning brain. And then she did something else that astonished him even more and rendered him completely powerless.

She kissed him.

All thoughts of trickery and disappointment disappeared from his mind, as he came to terms with a whole new sensation washing over him.

Her lips were chapped and wet and extremely soft. They moved against his motionless mouth with a tenderness he was sure he was imagining. Even though she could do anything, she moved away after a second. It was simply a peck, nothing more, nothing less.

After she pulled away he could feel the tinge of copper on his mouth. Apparently, she'd bitten her lips to the point of drawing blood and hadn't even noticed. He could only gape and take in all of the new experiences.

"I-I noticed…" she panted as she wiggled about above him, hypnotizing him with her breasts, her waist, moving the grace only a fighter possessed, "You never… kiss… You're always so dominant… You know, from time to time… 's okay to―"

This time it was her who didn't say anything and then slowly eased herself onto him.

Tightness was the first feeling that washed over him. His mouth flew even more open from the shock and he let out his first groan: quiet, muffled, but pained and surely _there_. His eyes dimmed, closing almost all the way, though he still managed to see her surprised, yet lustful expression. He felt his cock twitch and harden even more. He was confused: never before had it felt so… good wasn't the best word to describe the state he was in, but none other could suffice.

After a moment of both of them adjusting she started moving in slow circles around him, panting and cursing under her breath. Soon, he joined her as well.

He couldn't believe it. He was deeper than he'd ever been before. She was faster than he'd ever experienced. And more passionate. His whole body was burning.

Instinctively, his hands reached for her hips, took hold of them and urged her to go even more swiftly. She easily complied with him, starting to move up and down as well. The sheer amount of directions she was going drove him crazy. He handled her roughly, hands gripping her buttocks tightly from the pressure that was building inside him. He was sure he was going to leave marks. His grunts mixed with her own whimpers, until he wasn't sure which sound was made by whom.

Then he noticed that her hands were no longer on his legs, keeping her from falling: one was sprawled on his chest and the other was quickly heading to her clit. Annoyed, Talon moved his hand from its position at her hip, batted hers away and started massaging her clit with his thumb.

That was the moment that she finally lost her balance and collapsed against his sweaty chest, leaving him in a bit uncomfortable position. Nevertheless he continued stimulating her and going faster and faster, building up her desire, until he had her practically screaming.

"I-I," she started talking again and honestly he couldn't understand why she tried at all, "I t-think I'm―"

They came together amidst a fog of war and strewn sheets.

She lay on him once again, but this time her breath was slowly calming down and a content smile had dawned on her face. One hand was on his chest while the other was lost somewhere he couldn't see. Through his heavy-lidded eyes he noticed that her eyelashes were so long that they probably tickled her cheeks every time she blinked.

There had been no sweet nothings. He had almost followed through his rules of love making. Almost.

Just a second more. Just a second more to rest and gather his power. Then he'd kill her and make his exit. Because Talon had his rules and he followed them through.

Then he promptly fell asleep.

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He woke up, cursing under his breath. Another one of his rules crossed out and out of his list of rules. Because when a rule is broken, it isn't a rule anymore.

However, behind him, he could feel a comforting presence that he'd felt only in certain moments in his childhood. It was solid, unwavering and safe.

As the sleep faded away from his mind and body, he came to realize that what was rubbing against his back was in fact a very nice pair of breasts, which belonged to a certain woman that he'd only thought to fuck and then kill. But now, both actions seemed unnecessary to the man, who didn't really want to make the mistake of the former, but wasn't quite inclined to do the latter. Instead he let his thoughts wander.

She was stirring in her sleep, murmuring various names against his skin. Out of all the names, he made out a quiet "Talon…". No titles included.

To her he was simply Talon. The small boy with no worries (except the next meal) from the slums. Not the Blade's Shadow, nor one of the best assassins, nor a member of the DuCouteau family. She had stripped him of all his titles and left only the little boy lurking beneath. And she had given everything this boy wanted: the security of watching his back, much like the walls that protected him in his childhood.

Like General DuCouteau she had managed to beat him (except in a different battlefield) and consequently Talon would give her his hard-earned respect and loyalty. Despite the fact that she was from Demacia and could make use of his skills in a way that might be bad for Noxus. For that reason she would never know.

Slowly and ever so quietly, he turned around so as to look at her. Of course, she continued sleeping and he temporarily lost the feeling of security. However, a strange feeling of calm clung to him, much like the healing spells that were cast on him on the Fields of Justice.

Her forehead was wrinkled in her sleep and he hadn't been wrong: her eyelashes did brush her cheeks when she closed them. Her hair was matted to one side, in a dire need for a shower. His eyebrows knotted.

Slowly his arms encircled her tiny frame (really, she looked more imposing in battle), in a childish attempt of giving what she'd just given him.

Apparently, for her there would be a whole new set of rules.

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**'insertGarenpun'**

**Ohoo, Quinn is sick of playing bot lane and instead sends Talon there. YEAAAAAAAAAAH! XD **


End file.
